1. Sid. DUDE. You’re killing me. Can you please do parents everywhere a solid and cool it with the keep asking lots and lots of questions bit? I don’t know what sort of biology/chemistry/astrophysics education you think I have, but let me start by telling you that I answer 99% of my kids’ science-related questions with “Jesus”, “magic” or “nocturnal”.
How does electricity work? Jesus. What makes the wind blow? Magic. Why do we eat fast food when you know it is bad for me? Nocturnal.
With every episode you are forcing me to feed my children more and more lies as I descend into a rabbit hole of maintaining the illusion that I know everything. How about you teach them some practical life skills, like not killing each other in the grocery store or knocking before they barge through a closed bedroom door?
I love how cheerful and optimistic you are, but I also sort of want you to burst into flames.
2. George is a good little monkey, and always very curious.
Wrong. George is a straight up dick. Digging up the front yard until he hits a sewer line because he wanted a pool? Spewing cake batter all over the kitchen, then coming up with the ingenious solution of parading in a bunch of stray neighborhood dogs to lick it up?
If that asshole pulled even one of the shenanigans he pulls on The Man With The Yellow Hat the police would find a monkey who had been bludgeoned to death in my bathtub.
Also, his relationship with The Man With The Yellow Hat seems very… special. I mean – The Man With The Yellow Hat isn’t bad lookin’, has a sweet apartment with a panoramic view of Central Park, yet never has any dates or friends except his scientist co-worker lady.
I’m just saying he just seems to have an unnatural affinity for his – ahem – furry little pet.
Roland and Miranda just sort of laugh her off, but I can tell you that if that little snot was my daughter her summers would be filled with picking up highway litter and a beyond scared straight program at a local prison.
She embodies every awful thing in the world – narcissism, selfishness, greed, bullies, traffic gridlock, the smell of Long John Silvers. I understand her role in the show is to, in a backwards way, teach kids the good guys (and girls who become a princess overnight) finish first and that being thoughtful and humble make you feel better than the opposite.
But the joke is that in real life, people like Amber almost always win. They have tons of friends. They look great in maxi dresses. They get free drinks without having to show boobs. I just wish – FOR ONCE – Amber would get hers in a Carrie-style prom queen crowning.
4. DORA!!!! HONEY!!!! WHERE ARE YOUR PARENTS!!!! THE CENTRAL AMERICAN JUNGLE IS ONE OF THE DEADLIEST PLACES IN THE WORLD AND CERTAINLY NO PLACE FOR A LITTLE GIRL TO BE RUNNING AROUND BY HERSELF!!!! WHAT IS IN YOUR BACKPACK!!!!
ALSO WHAT’S WITH ALL THE YELLING!!!! WE ARE RIGHT!!!! HERE!!!! LISTENING TO YOU SING OR TALK OR BREATHE MAKES MY EYE TWITCH!!!! I DON’T KNOW WHY EVERY SINGLE SYLLABLE THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH HAS TO SOUND LIKE YOU ARE FALLING OUT OF A ROLLER COASTER!!!!
THOUGH YOUR LITTLE FRIEND BOOTS COULD TEACH A THING OR TWO TO THAT JERK CURIOUS GEORGE!!!!
YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO GET A DATE, OR LIVE TO SEE NINE IF YOU KEEP YELLING LIKE THAT!!! NOW GO FIND A RESPONSIBLE ADULT AND TURN YOUR BACKPACK INTO THE AUTHORITIES AND MAYBE THEY’LL GIVE YOU SOME SORT OF PLEA BARGAIN!!!
5. Watching Sponge Bob is like watching toxic drivel spill out of my television. I physically see the sludge slither across the floor, up the couch and into the ears of my children. I literally fear for the safety of their brains when this show is on – I can see them getting dumber by the minute.
It also happens to be one of my favorite shows. I think it’s hilarious.
But, alas, I don’t watch it. It’s called parental sacrifice, people. I hope one day my kids read this and erect a giant shrine in my honor.
-AND NOW THE LOVE-
Maybe it’s because DJ Lance Rock is from St. Louis, and every now and then I have a huge fantasy about how I run into him and we simultaneously bust into There’s A Party In My Tummy, So Yummy, So Yummy, or maybe it’s because it’s 30 minutes of trip tastic songs and animation that take me back to college. But this show rocks.
In my mind DJ Lance Rock and I would totally be best friends if we ever met/he answers my fan mail. We would spend our days dancing, hitch kicking and making up obscure songs like, “Who Pooped In The Laundry” and “This Dishwasher Isn’t Going To Empty Itself.”
We’d stay up late telling ghost stories and watching Sponge Bob and Nick would be so happy I’d found someone other than him to spot my toe heel tap jumps.